My decision to attempt Mt Adams from Horn Creek was based on distance to the trailhead: The Willows Creek trailhead was an extra 1.5 hours in driving time from my house than the Horn Creek Trailhead, so that’s the route I chose. There were several cars in the parking lot when I arrived, and at least two parties camping in tents. The bathrooms were open and clean. It had rained the night before. I was on the trail at 2:30am.
I followed the well defined trail to the left. While the path was easy to follow, I could tell the rocks on the trail in this section were going to be hard on my feet on the way out.
After about .3 of a mile I came to a junction in the dark. My instructions said to go southwest here, so despite doing the obvious thing and following the sign that pointed right to Horn Creek I got out my compass and saw southwest was left. I turned left and walked for about a quarter mile before realizing (remembering) I was on the trail for Colony Baldy, and there was no way it was taking me to Horn Creek. I turned around and retraced my steps and corrected where I’d gone wrong… (turn right at this sign, do not go southwest)
Continue on this trail for about one tenth of a mile and you’ll come to another junction where you then turn southwest (left) and follow a well defined trail for about 5 miles to Horn Lakes.
There’s a trail register shortly after the second junction. I signed my name and for some reason wrote “Horn Peak” as my destination even though it was actually Mt Adams, but didn’t realize this until I’d hiked a few miles past the register. Whoops!
From here the trail became less rocky and followed Horn Creek. I could tell even in the dark the flowers were amazing right now!
At about 2.5 miles I crossed Horn Creek on what I’d describe as ‘bouncy’ logs: They bounced up and down as I walked across them.
The trail became quite overgrown at this point, and my legs were getting a little damp from the plants still wet from last night’s rain. I looked for animal/human tracks and didn’t see any on the trail. It was a nice and gentle hike in without a moon. Oh, and there were moths I honestly thought were bats at first they were so big. They were white, loud as they flapped their wings, and quite attracted to my flashlight. The first few gave me quite a start, but I quickly got used to them.
There was water in the middle of the trail around mile 3
And another stream crossing at mile 4. I crossed the creek and headed up into the basin
I was a little worried I wasn’t following the correct trail here because there was also a trail that didn’t cross the creek the second time and in the dark looked like it paralleled this trail, entering the basin as well. The trails never converged, but it looked like the other trail made it to Horn Lakes too
The trail goes all the way to the end of the basin, but at some point you need to turn right (west) and head up a steep grassy slope to gain Point 13,325 and the ridge to Mt Adams. I did this at about 11,780’ while I was still under treeline, and as I turned west this is what I saw
There was a lot of bushwhacking involved for about 20 yards or so, and then the brush and trees cleared and I could see where I was headed.
As I ascended the northeast ridge the sun began to rise and as I looked back I could see some of the lakes I’d passed and not noticed in the dark
This slope is very steep and longer than it looks. There are willows here, but luckily they’re only about a foot or so off the ground so they’re easy to navigate. There are a lot of different ways to gain the ridge. This seemed like the easiest route to me
I did my best to avoid the willows when possible
Here’s looking back down on the basin from about halfway up the slope
Once I made it up the top of the slope (Point 13,325) I turned left (southwest) and could see the rest of the route before me. The ridge looked like fun!!!
This ridge can be kept at a class 2 if you know where to go, but class 3-4 if you just stick to the ridge. I like scrambling so I took the solid route up and the dotted line down.
The first obstacle was this bump in the ridge. I went straight over the top but you can keep this class 2 by going to the right and skirting the bump
Here’s the next obstacle. Once again you can go straight over the top or keep it class 2 by going to the right
Finally I had to decide which way I wanted to summit. I like sticking to ridges when I can, so I decided to continue my climb along the ridge. I took the solid line up, and dotted line down
I kind of skirted the point next to Mt Adams and aimed for the ‘saddle’ between the point and summit block
Once at the base of the summit block there were several options to summit, all easily kept at a difficult class 2. The ground here was surprisingly stable and covered in vegetation.
I summited at 8am
Summit Video:
The summit marker was missing a few things…
But the views of the surrounding peaks were amazing!
I decided to descend a different way than I’d taken up. Here’s a look at the route I took back to the ridge
I skirted Point 13,325 to the right on my way back
Here’s another look at the steep slope
And the path I took down
Here’s where my route diverged a bit from the way up: I continued to follow the ridge, staying just a little to the right as I did, and ended up in a navigable scree-filled gully. I descended the gully and aimed for the trail I could see in the distance that would lead me back down the basin.
At about 12,000’ I found what I’m pretty sure are oceanic fossils in the talus.
I exited at 11,690’. Here’s looking back at the route. The solid line is the way I took up, dotted is back down. Neither was better than the other, and there seemed to be many ways to ascend the slope and gain the ridge.
As soon as I found the trail that would lead me back to the trailhead the mosquitoes started swarming. This is the type of area they liked best. Luckily it only lasted for 3 miles or so…
There were tons of mosquitoes. I could swipe my hand through the air and dozens would be on my arm. I couldn’t stop to take pictures of flowers (etc) without mosquitoes taking it as an opportunity to land and feast.
They were biting me through my clothes. Even though it was around 80 degrees I put on my puffy jacket and a hat and stopped stopping. Back at the trail register I corrected my hike to Mt Adams (not that it mattered anymore) and luckily by then the mosquitoes had died down a bit. The rocks on the trail were indeed bothersome on the way out. I made it back to the trailhead a little before 12pm, making this a 13.5 mile hike with 5292’ in elevation gain in 9.5 hours.
There are so many routes up Mt Meeker, and some have pretty cool names: Flying Dutchman, Dream Weaver, Dragon’s Tail, etc. I chose the Iron Gates route because for some reason it sounded cool to climb through The Iron Gates. I was also told this route had the best views of Longs Peak (I wasn’t disappointed). Plus… the knife edge between Meeker Ridge and Mt Meeker sounded like fun, and I wanted to find out what a “flying buttress” was.
I was surprised with how many vehicles were in the Longs Peak Trailhead parking area when I arrived. It’s a large lot, and was at least halfway full. Several hikers were readying their gear. Last time I was here was the Friday before a Labor Day weekend, and I hadn’t seen very many people at all. I saw dozens of hikers on the trail this morning.
I arrived at the parking lot at 2:30am and was on the trail by 2:40am. I chose to take the Chasm Meadows Approach from Longs Peak Trailhead. The trail starts to the left of the Rangers Station.
I could see headlamps shining brightly ahead of me, and passed four groups of hikers before making it to the first junction about ½ a mile from the trailhead. Stay left here
The trail is definitely class 1 all the way to Chasm Lake. I saw multiple groups ahead of me, all intent on Longs Peak. They had very bright headlamps. Very bright. In fact, at times they were almost blinding, especially as I got closer to a group of hikers and they’d turn around to look at me. I realized this morning just how dim my flashlight actually is (but I like it that way: sometimes a bright flashlight gives too much information).
Around treeline I could see the full moon with city lights in the background.
After making it to treeline there’s still 1.7 miles left to Chasm Lake. Stay left here as well.
About a mile before reaching chasm lake there’s a trail junction where you can stop for a bit to use the privy and let your horses rest.
Having to do neither I continued on towards chasm lake, a little disappointed to lose a couple hundred feet in elevation in the process.
Here there were a couple of small snow areas to cross that were quite slippery in the morning, but easy to navigate in the afternoon.
Just before Chasm Lake the trail ended. I made it to this area while it was still dark and it looked like there was a lot more snow than there actually was. The dotted line is the route I took up the gully, the solid one is the route I took on my way back down. This ended up being a good approach, as the solid way down went through a waterfall that would have been messy in the dark.
My goal was to make it to the Iron Gates. In the dark I couldn’t see much and while I knew I was headed in the correct direction I didn’t have a visual yet of the Iron Gates.
The terrain at the base of the Iron Gates was very loose scree, mixed with small rocks. As I climbed higher the ground became loose talus that became more stable until it eventually turned into solid rocks. I headed straight through to the back of the Iron Gates
Here the sun began to rise and I was able to see why this route is said to have great views of Longs Peak
At the end of the Iron Gates there’s some class 3 scrambling to gain the ridge
There’s a cairn at the top I made a mental note of to help me find the entrance on the way back down
Here’s a look back down the Iron Gates at Chasm Lake
At the top of the Iron Gates I turned right (south) and climbed the northeast ridge to Meeker Ridge (the unranked peak, not the ridge itself)
Yes, there were some pretty awesome views of Longs Peak
I made it to Meeker Ridge at 6:45am. I got a quick selfie and video at this unranked 13er
Meeker Ridge:
Up until this point the hike had been easy, but now it was about to get a little spicy. It was time to traverse the short ridge between Meeker Ridge and Mt Meeker. This ridge has a ‘mini-knife edge’ similar to the one on Capitol Peak. I was able to stick to the ridge for this short traverse, dropping down to the right only once when absolutely necessary. This is a solid class 3 ridge with exposure.
Here’s a tip for the knife-edge part: It’s very similar to the one on Capitol Peak, and would make for a great practice run if you’re hesitant to try Capitol but feel solid with class 3 climbing. While on Meeker’s knife edge you can cross and use your right foot for balance by placing it on the rock beneath the ledge. This rock is underneath the knife ledge and difficult to see, but a few inches wide, solid, and you can use it for extra balance if needed. The rock here felt more solid than on Capitol.
Here’s looking back at Meeker Ridge
And some of the climbing/exposure on route
I made it to the summit of Mt Meeker at 7:15am, or what I thought was the summit of Mt Meeker. At the top of the traverse there were two points about 40 feet apart that both looked like the true summit. I sat on top of the first point, but the second point looked higher. So I went over and climbed to the top of the second point, but from there the first point looked higher. So I decided to take a video from the middle of both points and pictures from both.
Mt Meeker:
It was still early in the morning and the weather was holding out nicely. I decided to descend Mt Meeker and cross the Loft towards Longs Peak. Longs Peak wasn’t my goal, as I’ve already summited Longs, but I wanted to get a look at the Notch route up Longs and summit Southeast Longs (an unranked 14er sub summit). Southeast Longs is where the orange line ends.
To get there I descended 450’ to the loft, and then gained 600’ to the top of Southeast Longs.
The rocks here were solid and much larger than they looked from Mt Meeker. There were a bunch of social trails here so I just took the path of least resistance to the top.
I made it there at 8:25am. You can see Longs Peak Summit in the background
Curious as to what the Notch and path to Longs Peak looked like from here I descended to the cairn that indicated the entrance to the Notch and looked over. It looked like a class 3 scramble that would lose a couple hundred feet in elevation, and then re-gain it on the other side, connecting with the traditional Longs Peak Route just before the final pitch.
I briefly thought about attempting Longs Peak as well, but did some mental calculations and figured it would get me back around 3-3:30pm, and I really wanted to be back around 1:30pm, so I decided to save Longs Peak round 2 for another day. Also, there were a ton of people queued for the final push on Longs (I could see/hear them) and a lot of people on the summit as well. I’m not a fan of crowds, especially on peaks. In any event, I still had some more climbing to do myself, as I needed to re-ascend Mt Meeker to head back. I did not want to make this a loop.
The clouds were starting to build as I gained Meeker’s ridge
While they looked ominous at first (especially for being so early in the day) nothing came of them. The clouds did hide the sun for most of my return back to the trailhead and I did get a few drops of rain here and there, but I was never worried about thunderstorms.
Time for knife-edge part 2. I felt much more confident the second time around, and the traverse went much faster. I was well aware of the group of 15 or so people on top of Longs Peak watching me make the traverse. I could hear them talking to each other as I climbed up boulders and balanced on the ridge.
Just as I made it back to Meeker Ridge I met a young man beginning his attempt of the traverse. He’d had a long day, starting from Sandbeach Lake. I wished him luck and was on my way back down the Northeast Ridge towards the Iron Gates
As Chasm Lake came into view I could hear loud shouts that sounded like a large group was down there having fun. A group was paddleboarding. It seemed like a lot of work to me to get multiple paddleboards up to Chasm Lake, but hey, they must really be into the sport. I wondered to myself if it was legal to paddleboard there? I descended into the Iron Gates and had no problem on the larger rocks/talus. However, descending the scree was a bit of a small nightmare. I was so glad when I made it to the bottom of the Iron Gates and turned around to see them in the daylight
I followed the gully more to the west this time and descended via a wide waterfall area with small rivers of water flowing throughout
This brought me to the base of Chasm Lake, where I picked up the trail back to Chasm Meadows. This is also where I met up with a group of 12 or so campers from a nearby camp. I could tell immediately they weren’t Girl Scouts because there was only 1 adult with them, the girls were all wearing shorts and did not look like they’d been “roughing it”. I asked them where they were from and wished them well as I hiked out.
A few minutes later as I reached the Jims Grove area I could hear the girls behind me, their counselor yelling at them every 10 seconds or so to “hurry up” even though they were setting a fast pace. Long story short, she pushed them too hard and one of the girls clipped and fell. She’s alright and just scraped her knee, but I hope the counselor learned her lesson and slowed down a bit.
It was great seeing the waterfall crossing areas on my way down in the daylight.
I made it back to my truck at 1:15pm, making this a 13.5 hour hike with 5764’ in elevation gain in 10 hours 30 minutes
Today’s hike was absolutely beautiful! I can’t wait to head back here to tackle a few more 13ers…
No, I didn’t drive straight to the Missouri Gulch trailhead. It took me forever to drive home going 50mph on the I70. I made it home at 7am and limped out of the truck. My feet seemed to hurt more now than they did last night. They’d dried out, but were now red and raw. I decided to take a few hours ‘off’ to let my feet rest. After cleaning up and pampering my feet I took a 5 hour nap. When I woke up my feet had dried out and I was able to get a better look. No blisters. That was a relief. They were still red and swollen though, meaning I’d had a Raynaud’s attack yesterday. It all made sense, and was most likely caused by the 20 minutes I spent trying to dig out my water shoes from the cold creek combined with a long, physical day.
Driving home had been the right thing to do. By the middle of the day my feet were still sore but I found I could walk on them. Kind of… you see, it hurt terribly to begin walking, but after the 10th step or so the pain went away. So I figured I just had to start hiking and not stop and I’d be fine.
At 9pm I made the decision to drive to the trailhead, try to nap for an hour, and attempt another hike. It was either that or stay home and do the treadmill thing in the morning, which did not sound appealing with sore feet.
Everything went well. I made it to the trailhead and slept for an hour before my alarm went off at 2am. There were tons of vehicles at the trailhead. As I was putting on my hiking boots a couple drove up in a Subaru. We were hitting the trail at the same time, so when I got out of my truck I waved and said hi to them. No response. Hmmmm… ok. Maybe they hadn’t seen me (or that the lights on in my truck)? I turned on my flashlight, walked over to the trailhead and once again said “hi guys!” I was hoping to just chat and see where they were going before setting off. When I see others at trailheads I like to connect in case something happens (to either of us). Once again, they didn’t respond (but their dog looked back at me). Maybe the creek was making too much noise for them to hear me? Ok, well, I don’t like to be rude but I’d tried to be nice. Maybe I’d see them on the way down. I didn’t say anything as I quickly scooted past them and headed down to the stream, crossed the bridge, and headed up the trail.
Yes, my feet hurt, but I had a plan: don’t stop. Also, take ibuprofen every 4 hours. The first few steps were painful, but after that as long as I kept moving the pain went away. This was my second attempt of Emerald/Iowa, and my 4th time hiking via the Missouri Gulch trailhead. Call me crazy, but those switchbacks are getting easier. Also, the baby grave doesn’t bother me so much anymore.
The avalanche area has been nicely cleared, and now there’s a log bridge over the creek and a nicely manicured trail through the avy debris.
I made it to the cabin in exactly 1 hour and thought that was pretty good time, considering.
I entered Missouri Gulch and had no problems following the well established trail. The willows seem so much bigger without all the snow.
I turned right at the junction for Elkhead Pass/Belford and followed the trail towards Elkhead Pass.
There were several stream crossings to navigate here. These were not fun in the dark, but in the daylight didn’t pose much of a problem. Oh, and there aren’t any ‘easier’ ways to cross: just cross them right where they intersect with the trail.
I felt like I was making pretty good time. It’s amazing how much easier the gulch is to navigate without snow. I made it to the Elkhead Pass/Missouri Mountain junction
This is where I got a little worried: this is the first hike all year I haven’t brought along my snowshoes, and the area before Elkhead Pass looked to be full of snow. Luckily there actually wasn’t that much and what snow there was was solid in the morning so I didn’t need traction (I had spikes and crampons in my bag, but didn’t need them).
It was still dark as I navigated my way through the snow and sometimes trail up to Elkhead Pass. Here’s a look at the route from later in the day coming down from Missouri. The snow was easily navigable, but seems like much more when you’re down there hiking through it.
I found myself at the top of Elkhead Pass at 5:15am. It had taken me 3 hours to get here (4.1 miles and 3580 in elevation gain). Remembering how icy conditions had forced me to turn around here last time I was a bit worried to see snow at the top of the pass, but as I got closer I noticed there wasn’t as much snow as I’d initially thought. (Sorry for the poor quality of the next few photos: I took them in the dark and had to lighten them up so show details)
I descended Elkhead Pass, but not all the way to the bottom of Missouri Basin (Yes, Missouri Basin, not Missouri Gulch. We need to get more creative with these names people!). I found a cliff band below Missouri and followed that towards the little lakes, as I didn’t want to lose more elevation than necessary. Here’s the path I took hugging Missouri
At the cliff band I descended the least amount possible, heading towards the lakes
Here’s looking back at Elkhead Pass and the way down (don’t drop lower than necessary: there’s a trail that takes you all the way to the bottom; avoid that).
The area between Missouri and Emerald was mucky
There are several ways to gain Emerald’s ridge. There was snow surrounding the access area to the south, so I went a little further north and took this path, avoiding the lakes and snow as much as possible.
Here’s a look back at the route and Elkhead Pass
Once I gained the ridge I turned right (west) and followed a faint trail up the ridge. (Note: the standard route up is the dotted line. I did not take this route because I wanted to avoid kicking in steps in the snow: I wasn’t sure my feet would appreciate that today)
Instead I skirted the mountain to the northwest to the saddle between Emerald and Iowa and summited via Emerald’s north slopes
The last 500 feet or so to the summit were filled with scree/talus and tons of goat/social trails. Just aim for the ridge
I had a goat watch me the entire way, then disappear when I reached the ridge
From the ridge I turned right (west) and walked my way to the summit
I summited Emerald Peak at 7:20am
Emerald:
Despite the threat of forecasted afternoon storms this morning was beautiful! I looked over to Iowa and back at the route I’d taken thus far. An idea came to me: it looked like similar elevation gain/loss going over Missouri as it did going back over Elkhead pass. I might as well tag Missouri again. I decided to wait and see if the weather held out before making a final decision, but it seemed a draw either way. Oh, and my feet were holding up, so that’s a plus.
The route to Iowa and Missouri was obvious. I headed down Emerald’s north slopes and towards the Emerald/Iowa saddle and up to the summit of Iowa
The hike up to Iowa’s summit was easier than expected; I just stayed to the left of the snow on the ridge. Once again, a goat watched my ascent.
I summited Iowa Peak (an unranked 13er) at 8:10am. You can see Emerald Peak in the background of this picture
Iowa:
The decision had been made: on to Missouri! Initially I tried to descend Iowa too far to the right (east) and had to turn back due to snow I didn’t particularly want to cross. To avoid all snow it was easier just to follow Iowa’s ridge to the Iowa/Missouri saddle.
Looking back at Iowa from the Iowa/Missouri Saddle
The ridge up to Missouri was much, much easier than anticipated. I don’t know if it was the ibuprofen I took on Iowa or just conditioning, but I felt the ridge from Iowa to Missouri wasn’t very challenging at all. In fact, when I made it to the top I’d assumed I was only halfway up, and actually asked the 10 other people I saw as I was approaching “Is this seriously the summit!?!?” (Note to self: not a good question to ask a group exhausted hikers when you aren’t even winded. Tone it down a bit.).
I reached Missouri at 9am and asked one of the other hikers to take my photo because I thought it would look silly setting up my gorillapod.
Missouri:
Missouri had been an added and unexpected bonus peak today, and it has a summit marker!
Here’s a look back on Emerald and Iowa
Knowing I couldn’t let my feet stop moving for long I thanked the photographer for taking my picture and headed back down via Missouri’s northwest ridge. There’s a great trail the entire way from the summit back to the Missouri Gulch Trailhead. Here’s the route of the ridge
The crux area was much easier to navigate than I remember it being when I hiked Missouri last time. This time I could even hold onto the rock face for added stability if needed
Is this rabbit named?
Here’s a look back at the ridge
Exiting the ridge is marked by a cairn (and today a tiny bit of snow). After rounding the corner get ready to do some scree surfing. (Note: if you’re not a fan of scree (who is?), microspikes help provide traction. Seriously, try them on scree, it’ll change your life).
Looking back up at the scree slope to gain the ridge
There were some slight snow fields to cross, but nothing that required traction
From here there’s an obvious trail back down to the gulch.
I met tons of people hiking on the way down from Missouri. It was the perfect day for a 14er, there are 3 in the area, and everyone was out. I made it back to my truck at 11:45am, making this a 14.5 mile hike with 5985’ in elevation gain in 9.5 hours.
My feet did not look pretty when I was done but I was very pleased with today’s hike. I didn’t feel tired, even at the end. My feet successfully made it the entire way without complaining (too much). I think the ups and downs in elevation gain on the ridges gave me little breaks that made all the difference. I’m sure you could do this hike in reverse and feel the same way. I never saw the couple I’d seen at the trailhead in the morning, but I’m hoping they stayed safe and had a fabulous hike as well!
After my failed attempt last week I decided to do more research and try Hagerman again today. I learned the upper road to Lead King Basin had an avalanche about 1 mile after the stream crossing (very close to where I’d parked) so I decided to take the lower road from Marble to Crystal instead. I’d heard a lot of conflicting reports on this road, but when I searched it online I found this video, which was very helpful.
The road itself wasn’t that difficult with a 4WD (I wouldn’t attempt in a 2WD), and my Tundra handled it just fine. The only problems I can foresee would be passing other vehicles. Luckily there are a lot of small turnout areas on this road, especially before and after the committing areas. I drove in at night to ensure I wouldn’t need to pass oncoming vehicles, which I knew would be problematic in my big truck, no matter the size of the other vehicle.
Since I drove in when it was dark I wasn’t able to see the Crystal Mill, but I expected to see it on my way out the next day.
I made it to Crystal around 10pm on a Thursday night and all the lights in the ‘city’ were out. As I passed the Crystal Mill I saw a sign saying Lead King Basin was closed, so I dimmed my lights and parked at the east end of town, mentally calculating the extra mileage and what time I needed to start in the morning. Looks like I was getting about 3.5 hours of sleep.
As I was preparing to go to bed (my lights were out) I saw the lights go on in the second story windows of a cabin across the street. The two story 18th century style wood cabin had two tiny windows upstairs, covered in lace curtains. The light from the windows was glowing pale blue, and I saw the silhouette of a woman walking around. She was wearing a long nightgown and her hair was pinned up in a bun. The woman slowly walked around the room, picking up objects and setting them back down. Then the lights went out.
I set my alarm for 2am. When I woke up I crawled from the back seat into my front seat and started putting on my shoes. I didn’t need to turn on any lights because the full moon was shining bright enough to allow me to see. I saw a fox run down the center of the road, and then noticed the lights in the second story window of the house across the street turn on. Once again I saw the silhouette of a woman walking around. She was wearing a long nightgown and her hair was pinned up in a bun. She slowly walked around the room, picking up objects and setting them back down. Then the lights went out.
Whoa. That was spooky. I knew I hadn’t woken her up because I hadn’t made any noise, opened any doors, turned on any lights, etc. I was going to have to investigate that house in the daylight upon my return because that was just… weird. I mean, what are the chances she was up at 10pm and 2am, just like I was? Also, how many women still wear nightgowns to bed?
Ok, so I was on the trail at 2:15am. It was a 2 mile hike to Lead King Basin along a 4WD road that didn’t offer many turnouts, but was indeed open and my truck could have made it just fine to the trailhead. Oh well, I was getting in 4 extra miles today.
The trailhead was about 2 miles from Crystal. I didn’t see any of this in the dark (these signs seriously need reflective elements to them for us who start before daylight).
There’s a nice junction where you turn left to head up and around the north end of Lead King Basin to Geneva Lake
Here the trail was quite overgrown with flowers, plants, and trees. I thought to myself how it felt a little like being in a rainforest, and how much fun the flowered areas would be on my way back (I’m not a fan of flying-stinging insects, so I was being sarcastic). On the positive side: no mosquitoes!
It was in this area I saw my first ever porcupine on the trail. I see them along the side of the road when I’m driving to trailheads quite a bit, and one time I heard one under my truck at the Grizzly Gulch trailhead and had to fend it off in the middle of the night, but this was the first one I’d encountered on the trail.
He was just sitting there, staring at me. So I talked to him to get him to move. He turned around and waddled ahead of me, staying directly in the middle of the trail. I didn’t really want to follow a porcupine to the lake, so I talked a little louder to him. He scurried into the bushes and I immediately realized the error of my ways: now I couldn’t see him and didn’t know where he was. I didn’t want to experience porcupine quills and all that entails, so I nicely talked to the porcupine in a sing-song voice as I passed where I’d last seen him, crossing my fingers I hadn’t made him mad/scared and that he wasn’t sitting in the bushes: poised to shoot.
Mission “pass the porcupine” accomplished I continued on to the lake. The moon was full and bright so I conserved flashlight battery and hiked by the moonlight. Just as I made it to the lake I heard a faint barking in the distance. I was worried there was a lost dog out there somewhere (hey, it’s happened) but as I rounded the bend to the lake the barking got louder, and then I saw a flashlight turn on. The owner was pointing the flashlight in the direction opposite of me, and the dog was starting to bark really loud. I yelled up at them “It’s just a hiker!” I received no response, but the dog stopped barking and the flashlight turned off. It was about 4:45am. I immediately felt more secure hiking in the dark: I was pretty sure there wasn’t another animal in the area, as that dog would have been alerted to it.
Just north of the lake the trail continues north and then there’s a stream crossing. There were tons of areas to cross here, and all required taking off my shoes. At times the water was knee deep (I’m 5’4”), but mostly it was just high on my shins. Also, it was cold. When I was done my water shoes were quite muddy so I left them on a rock to dry and to pick up later.
This is where my trip report diverges from some of the more popular field guides. I took the 1st west side gully to the southwest ridge.
I crossed the creek and headed north for about 100 yards, looking for a gully to my right (west gully). I’d seen pictures of the access gullies on the east that were still full of snow, so by taking the west side I was hoping to avoid any snow filled gullies. I wasn’t disappointed. Here’s the gully I took:
This gully was steep and loose. I did not feel comfortable sticking to the scree in the middle, so I stuck to the right side where the rocks were larger.
My goal was to gain the ridge as quickly as possible, aiming for this small saddle
Here’s looking back on the route
From the small saddle you can see Hagerman Peak
I turned left (north) and faced a class 3 section and headed up and over the ridge.
At the top of this point I could see the rest of the route before me
It’s important to note if you’re attempting this ridge to start early and make sure you have a large weather window. This ridge is very committing. I went at it slowly and carefully. The rocks here crumble: I’d find a hand hold, grip, and the rock would crumble in my hands. I had to make sure to test out each hold several times before using it to secure myself. Luckily, the ridge was snow free.
This is definitely a ridge you take by… sticking to the ridge. I was able to go directly up and over most areas, dipping to the left or right just a couple of times. As I ascended the rocks stopped crumbling and started tipping a bit (nothing fell, but not much was stable). Here’s the final push to the summit.
I made it to the summit at 9:10am
Hagerman:
I started the ridge at 7:15am and ended at 9:10am, making this a 2 hour ridge to cross. Here’s looking back at the route
The day was absolutely beautiful and it was still early morning so I considered traversing over to nearby 14er Snowmass Mountain. I’d done a lot of research and came up pretty empty with details, but I knew it could be done. I spent quite a bit of time looking around at possible paths before deciding if I was going to attempt traversing or not. I looked at Snowmass Mountain’s east side: nope, that was a no go. Tons of snow and no way I could see to begin from the summit. Next I looked to the left (west). A lot less snow but the shadows weren’t helping much.
I stopped and did a lot of thinking here. I knew the traverse was possible. The rock looked loose, but I could also see goat trails (or maybe those were gullies…). I was confident I could find traction in the dirt. I mentally calculated how much time I had, the weather, and looked for exit strategies in case I got to a place where I couldn’t continue. I decided both time and weather were in my favor today so I decided to go for it.
Note: This may not be the safest way to traverse from Hagerman to 14er Snowmass Mountain. For me and my abilities, it was the safest way on this particular day.
The first move committed me to the traverse: I down climbed about 50 feet of… this. I’m not sure I could have climbed back up this wall. (Ok, I could have or I wouldn’t have climbed down, but it would have been a lot of work).
I turned and looked towards Snowmass Mountain. This is what I saw. So I headed northeast and rounded the corner.
I was taking this one section at a time, focusing on what was directly in front of me but glancing up at the rest of the route every so often to make sure I was on course. I found myself trying to stick to the ridge, but that is not the way to do this traverse: you need to drop down much lower than you want to. Every time I tried to regain elevation I was forced to head back down.
My advice is to descend lower than the saddle, and then take the scree line up to where the trail connects with the east route. The best terrain was consistently 100-200 feet below the ridge.
Once you connect with the ridge where the east route links up you can easily follow the cairns to the summit.
This was a very slow climb. Everything was loose and what wasn’t loose was scree. I took extra time to be careful with each and every step, and kept the entire route in view as often as possible. I most likely made this take longer than necessary, but I stayed safe. I made it to the summit of Snowmass Mountain at 12:50pm, making this a traverse that took over 3.5 hours to complete. Here’s looking back at the route
Summit photo
Summit Video
I spent a lot of time on this bluebird day taking pictures. It’s harder than you think to set an automatic timer and then scramble up to the summit block. It took a few tries… and the ones that actually turned out were fuzzy, so I gave up.
After spending much more time on the summit than necessary I needed to make the decision of how I was going to head back down. I’d been hoping, similar to the west side of Hagerman, that the west side of Snowmass Mountain would be free from snow. No such luck. There was still snow in the gullies.
I did not want to do the traverse back to Hagerman because that and another 3 hour traverse would have been exhausting. I could tell the gullies on the west side of Snowmass Mountain ended/cliffed out in a waterfall area, but I could also see bare rock I could traverse either north or south to connect up where I needed to be. I decided to head down Snowmass Mountain’s west side, but for safety I would slightly alter the traditional route. It was too late in the day to safely take the gullies, so I was going to take the rock rib that wasn’t a rib but a bunch of loose rock that bulged from the mountainside. Here’s the route I took
Do not let these photos fool you: this is where I encountered the loosest rock of the day. These rocks are the size of refrigerators and tables. Every 3rd rock would tip, and I would think to myself: “That’s a lot of rock to tip!” Luckily not one rock actually tipped/fell/tumbled/caused a rock slide.
This was a very slow process but eventually I made it to the waterfall area. My feet were starting to hurt at this point from all the rock work.
The snow ended just at the waterfall and surprisingly I crossed the waterfall pretty easily here and headed down. I made it down to this area at 3:30pm.
The snow started up again after the waterfalls
From here I looked down at the basin, and unfortunately there was a lot of snow covering the trail I was supposed to take back to Geneva Lake. That snow was going to be several feet of mush at this time of day so I decided to traverse south along the mountainside, looking for a safer route down.
I made it here and unfortunately cliffed out yet again… but I could see where I needed to be: That goat trail should get me down.
After searching around for a bit I was able to find a way off this spot by circling the area to the north and down the small cliff
From here I followed the goat trail that went down a forested gully and came out ready to exit and head towards Geneva Lake.
The area through the trees to the stream crossing was wet.
At the stream crossing I reconnected with my water shoes. They were now dry but had been scattered and were now no longer sitting on the rock together but in the grass a few feet apart. I changed out of my shoes into my water shoes and crossed the creek
I’m ashamed to say the creek ate my water shoes. Seriously. The banks were quite muddy and during the last two steps my water shoes got sucked off my feet and into the muck. I spent 20 minutes trying to dig them out with my ice axe, but no dice. I couldn’t find them. They were buried in the banks of the stream. Ugh. From here I sat and put on my shoes and new, dry socks. I looked back at the route I’d taken to Hagerman.
My feet were hurting, and I still had 4 miles to go. Time to hit the trail. I skirted the lake and headed back towards Lead King Basin.
One great part of this hike was being able to see the waterfalls. And, since it was so late in the day: no bees!
At the base of the waterfalls the trail was running with quite a bit of water.
In the daylight I could see the upper 4WD trail to Lead King Basin
This is where my feet really started burning. I was surprised, since I’ve done more challenging hikes with greater mileage/elevation gain than this one, yet my feet were very sore. I made it past the Lead King Basin trailhead as the sun set and each step I took hurt more than the last. I wanted to cry. I’ve never felt foot pain like this. Also, I’d been hoping to stop in Carbondale tonight to get Subway for dinner, but it looked like I wasn’t going to make it back in time for that to happen.
It seemed as if it were taking forever to reach Crystal. I eventually came across a sign that said “Private Property next 2.5 miles” and mentally freaked out for a second. There was NO WAY it was 2.5 miles to Crystal! Not only could I physically not make it 2.5 more miles (My feet! My feet!!!) but I was pretty sure it had been 2 miles to the upper trailhead. Had I been wrong and it’d been 4? Ugh, I needed rest and I needed calories because my mind was playing tricks on me. Luckily it was only half a mile past that sign to the town of Crystal. I finished this hike at 8:45pm, making this a 15.5 mile hike/climb with 6211’ in elevation gain in 18.5 hours.
Read on for gross feet pictures and segue into the next hike…
I limped to my truck and sat down by a small access creek about 1 foot wide on the side of the road. I took off my shoes and gasped: Yuck! My feet had never looked like that before! The heels and pads were completely swollen and red/gray, and very painful to the touch (no blisters though).
I decided to wash them off in the water. I placed them both in at the same time and immediately felt relief, and then 2 seconds later started screaming because they started burning as if I’d placed them into a pot of boiling water. My feet turned bright red and were rendered useless. Seriously.
I couldn’t walk the 5 feet to my truck so I sat there for half an hour in the wet creek bank and thought about what I was going to do. I was supposed to drive to the next trailhead for my hike tomorrow, but doing the math if I left now I would get there and only have 1 hour to sleep before starting again. This hike had taken much longer than anticipated. I’d only had 3 hours of sleep last night so it was a bad idea to try to drive and then hike at this point. Also… my feet. I wasn’t sure they’d function tomorrow. They needed time to dry out. But long distance runners/thru hikers have this stuff happen, right? They just tape them up and hike/run anyway. I decided I was really, really tired and should sleep before attempting anything. I’d adjust my schedule as needed.
I had pain killers but decided not to take them: I wanted to be sure of an accurate pain level when I woke up so I could plan my day accordingly. Unfortunately, I never really made it to bed. I crawled into the cab of my truck, thankful I hadn’t rolled up my sleeping bag this morning. I tried to nap but even though I was exhausted I couldn’t get myself to fall asleep. After 2 hours I gave up and decided to drive home, with the added bonus of doing so in the dark late at night so I most likely wouldn’t need to pass anyone on the shelf road out. My feet had dried out a bit and were raw but less sore. They still overreacted every time I tried to use them. My right foot was healthier than my left; I couldn’t press down on the pedal very hard, so I drove slowly, but I made it.
Oh, and since I’d returned in the dark I never got to see the Crystal Mill, or get a good look at that old house with the lady in the windows…
This was my second attempt to summit Cathedral Peak this year. The first time was back in April when I had to turn around due to avy debris I was unable to navigate in the dark. I’d read a recent conditions report stating there was now a path around the avy debris and decided to attempt Cathedral Peak on my next free day.
My sleeping schedule is currently all messed up. I’d woken up at 2pm, took my daughter to the art museum, and then left my house at 9:30pm to make it to the trailhead by 2am. I wanted to get an early start on this one because of the potential thunderstorms later in the day, but mostly because I was worried the snow in the couloir would soften up early in the sunlight.
The trailhead had room for plenty of vehicles. When I arrived, there were 4 or 5 cars in the lot, but when I left there were dozens, all lined up on the side of the road. Also, apologies to the man I woke up who was trying to sleep in his vehicle: apparently my trucks headlights were too bright. I was on the trail at 2:10am.
The trail starts off meandering through an aspen grove. Last time I was here this had been covered in 3-4 feet of snow and I’d missed the sign…
I made it to the avy debris area after about a mile and a half of hiking. When I was here last I couldn’t see the top of the downed trees; they were supported by a huge layer of ice that was at least twice as tall as I am. Today the area was much more manageable to navigate.
Next I followed the side of the mountain up some switchbacks on an obvious trail. Side note: Beargrass (the tall plant with lots of tiny white flowers) looks scary in the dark; kind of like children waiting for you silently in the night. I like to keep my flashlight directly in front of me to keep myself from freaking out.
Once again, the trail is easy to follow. Here’s a look back at the trail
I stayed left at this junction on the way in (but on the way out ended up coming back down the Electric Pass trail and rejoining the trail here)
The most difficult route finding occurred here, before the lake. I knew I could pass the lake on either side but due to a creek crossing I didn’t want to take I navigated to the north. I was told there was a miners trail here, but was unable to locate it in the dark. I lost half an hour going up and down the trail, looking for the offshoot and was unsuccessful (although I did find a lot of trails that went in other directions). Finally, I decided to just head northwest through the willows. This sounds easy enough, but the willows here were several feet taller than I am. I just turned my trekking pole parallel to the ground and held it out in front of me while I bushwhacked across them. I only got hit in the face a few times (and had a swollen upper lip the rest of the day to prove it). The good news is I made it across, and the willows were no worse for the wear. On my way back I could see the miners trail in the daylight (more on this later). Here’s the route I took through the willows and across the creek (which was small enough I could jump across here without getting my boots wet).
Next I rounded Cathedral’s east ridge and found a well cairned trail that led me into the basin
This trail brought me above Cathedral Lake
This route was well cairned, and the talus was terrible. I got to be the first to experience the spider webs this morning. Tons of fun in the dark! Second only to phantom children.
Once in the basin you can see the route up the access gully. Today the basin was half filled with snow and I couldn’t help but think how much easier it would have been to traverse if it had all just been snow.
In the morning I didn’t need snowshoes. I made it to the base of the access gully at 5:25am and put on my crampons and helmet and got out my ice axe and garden tool (that tool’s really coming in helpful, but I may just break down and buy another full ice axe). This is steeper than it looks, but luckily it ‘went’ all the way to the ridge
Here’s looking back at the basin
The snow was still really firm and I was unable to kick in steps but I was able to ascend with crampons and ice axe. I was glad to have both my ice axe and (garden) tool. I was about 30 feet from the top when I decided it was better to be on the left side of the gully rather than the right and started traversing sideways. About 4 steps in my crampon hit the ice sideways and my boot slipped out of the bindings. This was the worse possible place for this to happen: I was balanced on the side of the wall of ice, with one foot in front of the other (I wasn’t able to kick in steps here, and was balancing on a very small mound of frozen snow with my right toe pointed at my left heel, sideways). I needed to have an ice pick in the wall for balance or I was going to slide all the way down the gully. My pulse rate quickened as I realized the severity of the situation. Luckily I had two tools. I carefully balanced on the working crampon and tried to knock the other back into place with my ice axe. No dice, my crampon wasn’t going back over my toe by sheer force (as well it shouldn’t; I’d fastened it pretty tightly initially, and had no idea how it had been knocked loose from my boot). That meant I was going to have to untie the crampon and re-tie it with one hand while holding onto the ice with the other: Without losing my balance and sliding down a few hundred feet of ice. It took me a solid 10 minutes to gingerly untie and re-tie the crampon, but I was able to do so from where I was perched. I mentally praised my daily yoga routine for developing my balancing skills. Here’s where my crampon was knocked sideways
Ok, crampon back on I carefully hustled my way to the top of the gully, topping out at 6:09am, a little shaky as I looked back down.
From the top of the gully I turned right and noticed the rest of the route was snow free. Woot! I took off my crampons and put them in my pack. Time for some scrambling! On the way up I took a class 3-4 route up and over the ridge (solid line) on the way down I found the cairns and took the class 2+ route along the side of the towers (dotted line).
The last bit to the summit was easy
I summited at 6:40am (it took me half an hour from the top of the gully to summit).
Summit Video
Check it out! A summit marker!
Here’s a look back at the basin and my route up to the gully
Time to head back down. I made it back to the top of the gully and met 3 other climbers. We chatted for a bit. They said they’d kicked in steps on the way up to make their descent easier. It was 7:20am as I headed back down the gully. On my way up I’d forgotten to put on my gloves (it wasn’t cold) and my knuckles were a bit tore up, but that’s the best way to learn a lesson. Also, I wasn’t sure I’d have been able to untie and then re-tie my crampon with gloves on. At any rate, I was putting gloves on for my descent.
I turned, faced the gully, and began my descent. It was only just after 7am, but there was a huge difference from when I was climbing at 6am. The snow was quickly softening up. I was careful to either avoid the kicked in steps, or if I had to use them to make sure I only made them better, but the softening snow wasn’t making things easy. Sticking to the climbers left of the gully seemed the best way to go. About ¾ of the way down the snow was slush and I really just wanted to glissade the rest of the way (but didn’t because I was worried I’d mess up what was left of the kicked in steps).
Here’s the route once again
I actually took more time than necessary heading back down, and as soon as I could I switched out my crampons for snowshoes to exit the basin.
I met a man starting his climb up the gully and was worried for two reasons: #1, the three people I’d met at the top of the gully hadn’t yet began their descent, and #2, it was rather late in the day for someone to start their climb (the snow at this point was rubbish). I figured the trio up top must have decided to picnic at the summit and asked the current climber to look out for them. It was now 8:25am, and I knew I wouldn’t want to begin my descent at this time. I figured I’d timed it pretty well starting at 2am: it would have been perfect if I hadn’t spent half an hour lost in the willows.
Speaking of willows, I made my way back to the small creek crossing and in the light of day was able to locate the miners trail. I crossed the creek and headed up the slope, aiming at a small pine tree. From here I was able to follow a faint trail, which eventually led me to the Electric Pass Peak trail, which I took back to the junction with the Cathedral Lake trail.
On my way out I couldn’t help but think how dreadful this climb would have been with snow all the way up to the lake! I have no idea how I found my way so far the first time. Here’s a look at some of the avalanche debris
I made it back to my truck at 10:55am, making this a 9.5 mile hike with 4416’ in elevation gain in 8.5 hours. The hike felt longer than it was, most likely because much of the trek out was done in direct sunlight on the way out (no trees for shade).
After 2 hours of sleep I woke up at 9:30pm to drive to the Halfmoon/Tigiwon/Fall Creek Trailhead. My kids think I’m nuts, but starting early when hiking above treeline really has its advantages. I was afraid of encountering afternoon thunderstorms, as there was a 50% chance after noon, and while I didn’t know if I’d be encountering any snow it was likely and would soften up during the day so I wanted an early start. The 2WD dirt road in was a little rough but easy to navigate. I arrived at the trailhead at 2:15am and took one of the last available parking spots.
There’s a ton of signage at this trailhead and multiple routes up to the same peak(s). I chose to take the Fall Creek Trail, heading south.
This trail is well established and well maintained. The first half mile or so was dry
And then the trail was completely covered in several inches of water. I took off my boots to cross the waterfall area (about 1.5 miles into the trail)
At 2.4 miles I came to a trail junction for Lake Constantine and Notch Mountain Trail, taking Notch Mountain Trail west.
This trail switchbacked up the side of the mountain for another mile or so, and where there wasn’t water there was snow
At 11,750’ I came to the base of the slope up to the ridge, and needed snowshoes
In the dark I could only see a few feet in front of me and there was a lot of snow, so here I lost the defined trail and just hiked straight up the ridge. Snowshoes were very helpful here! It’s also steeper than it looks
About 150’ from the ridge the snow stopped and I was able to follow a snow free trail to the ridge
The sun was beginning to rise, and I love sitting and watching sunrises, so as soon as I reached the ridge I ascended a small (and unranked) slope to sit and enjoy the view
The sunrise didn’t disappoint!
The best view was behind me though, of 14er Mt of the Holy Cross. Wow! It’s beautiful in the morning light.
After enjoying the sunrise I walked over to the ridge shelter and was excited to find it unlocked (well, it had a lock but the lock wasn’t securing the door).
The shelter’s actually quite roomy, with a fireplace (not that there’s any firewood above treeline) and a great view of Mt of the Holy Cross. This would be a nice place to shelter if a storm hit the ridge.
From the cabin I could see much of the rest of the route: Up Point 13,248, over to Point 13,373, and across to Holy Cross Ridge
The hike over to Point 13,248 was full of large rocks and hollow snow: the kind where you step on it and sink in a hole between the rocks up to your waist. After the first few postholes I stuck to the rocks
I summited Point 13,248 at 6:20am
Point 13,248
Here’s looking back at the shelter
And here’s the route before me. It didn’t look like the sun wanted to peak out above the clouds this morning
Here’s where I got a little nervous. The ridge looked like it was covered in more snow than I’d anticipated.
But when I made my way down there (losing about 600 feet in elevation along the way) the ridge was snow free enough to walk across. Well, not really walk, but more like scramble up and down on the rocks. Sticking to the ridge worked well.
I was a bit worried about the large patches of snow I saw, hoping they weren’t hollow like the snow I’d encountered higher up on the ridge. Luckily, the snow here was solid
This is also where the crux of the route began. The solid line is the route I took up, and the dotted one is the route I took on the way down.
On my way up I went straight across the slope and then up the ridge
If I were to do this again I’d take the route I took down up as well. I didn’t initially because the rocks looked loose and unstable, but on my way down I found them to be stable and easy to climb through. I needed my ice axe and crampons for this part (on the way up and down) because the snow was steep. The traverse across the slope on my way in was sketchy, as every few feet or so I’d hit an air pocket and sink to my waist. I went slowly, seriously worried at some point I was going to slip and fall. Once I’d traversed the slope I needed to gain the ridge. This was steep as well. I couldn’t have done this without my ice axe and crampons
I breathed a sigh of relief when I finally gained Point 13,373. That had been more difficult than anticipated. I took a look back at Point 13,248
And at the rest of the route before me
I descended a bit, and then traversed a flat area before ascending once again. The last few hundred feet go up and down in elevation quite a bit, creating a few small false summits. My advice is not to go straight up the ridge, but circle the mountain to the left (west), gaining in elevation as you go
There were several large patches of snow to traverse here as well, and just my luck, the sun started to peek out from behind the clouds, making these crossings tricky as well
I summited at 8:30am
Holy Cross Ridge:
Here’s looking back on the route I took along the ridge
Ok, the sun was really warming things up and I was debating how safe the route back down Point 13,373 was going to be with soft snow. The ridge to Mt of the Holy Cross looked quite easy, and I considered just making this a loop, but I really wanted pictures of the route I took in, meaning I was going back the same way. Time to head back.
This time instead of going directly over the top of Point 13,373 I skirted the mountain to the right (east)
This put me at a great place to descend, so I once again put on my crampons and got out my ice axe and garden tool
The snow had indeed softened up, but was now perfect for kicking in steps. I felt much more comfortable traversing down than I had up, and the best part was the rocks I thought had been loose were really much larger and stable than they’d looked from across the ridge. Here’s the route I took down
And now the fun part: re-ascending point 13,248
I skirted the summit of this one as well, sticking to the left and then heading back to the shelter
Once at the shelter I met a couple eating lunch and taking a break. They’d intended on hiking the ridge today as well but were turning back due to weather/conditions. I thought this was a great idea, and noted it did look like we were indeed going to get some thunderstorms today after all.
I made it back to the switchbacks and when I came to snow put back on my snowshoes. This section looks short, but it’s actually a long and steep descent (which is made ‘easier’ with the switchbacks I couldn’t see under the snow, so I just headed straight down).
The sun had warmed up the snow, and what had been solid on my way in was now the consistency of a slushie. Each step I took I sank in the snow past my knees, and my trekking pole and ice axe were useless. I was sliding everywhere, and finally gave up and glissaded down. The couple behind me kept getting their feet stuck in the snow between rocks. The conditions were terrible, and I mentally high-fived myself for an early start: I wouldn’t have been able to descend Point 13,373 at this time of day.
Oh, and I saw a ptarmigan. I love those guys!
Snow stopped at about 11,700’ and everything was wet again, including my feet. The slushy snow had gotten inside my boots and my feet were soaked through. Changing socks wouldn’t have helped because my boots were wet as well. I didn’t even bother taking off my boots for the creek/waterfall crossings because they were already soaking wet
I made it back to my truck at 1:30pm, making this a 13.5 mile hike with 4863’ in elevation gain in 11 hours.
I arrived at the Cataract Gulch trailhead the day before, after summiting Point 13,832. I was pleasantly surprised to find a well stocked and clean bathroom, as well as plenty of open parking space. Mine was the only vehicle in the lot, despite it being 4th of July weekend.
Also, apparently this is a Lynx recovery area, which I found interesting.
I’d ended my hike early and desperately needed to catch up on sleep, so I went to sleep around 2:30pm and only woke up twice: once because it was too hot in my truck (the sun was going down but at exactly the right angle to heat up my vehicle drastically in just a few minutes) and another time I around 10pm. I still had over 4 hours of potential shut eye so I took a melatonin with a shot of whiskey and fell back asleep. I didn’t wake up again until my alarm went off after 2am, so I consider it a successful night of truck camping (I notoriously sleep terribly at trailheads).
I fished around in my backpack for my flashlight and couldn’t find it. I was sure I’d placed it in the small pocket the day before, but it was nowhere to be found. Luckily, I always carry a spare as well as extra batteries. Immediately I remembered why I didn’t like this flashlight: it was TOO bright. That sounds like a good thing, but when hiking in the forest in the dark I’d actually rather not see every detail. This flashlight was too good. I was going to have to replace it when I got home.
On this hike I was armed with a topo map, a compass and some beta from the campers I met last night, as well as a rough route description. I started on the Cataract Gulch trailhead around 2:45am, crossing Cottonwood Creek on a well built bridge over a swiftly flowing creek
And then I crossed the creek twice more on well placed log bridges I had to hunt for in the dark because they weren’t on the main trail. I was seriously worried I’d have to ford this creek multiple times before discovering the log bridges, which were (as usual) easy to spot in the daylight.
This trail had a trail register (Woot! More noise!) and was easy to follow up to the first avalanche area
The avalanche area was very small and well packed down
I didn’t have any difficulties until I made it to the waterfall area. There had been a small avalanche and it looked as if the trail wanted me to cross the waterfall. I took out my topo map and it looked too early to cross yet, which meant I’d have to follow the waterfall up for a ways first. There was no trail so I bushwhacked in the dark up the mountainside, paralleling the creek.
Here’s when I came to the crux of the waterfall. It was still dark out (I’m guessing it was around 3:30am) and the waterfall was raging. I could feel the spray of water on my face, even though I was standing several feet away. I went right and left looking for a better way up and encountered very large boulders blocking the route in every direction. I could tell I just needed to ascend 15 feet or so (maybe less) and I’d be where I needed to be to cross the waterfall. It took some fancy footwork and a class 4 move, but I was able to work my way up the side of this boulder, up and over to flat terrain. (Side note, apparently I made this too difficult and there’s an easier way I was unable to find in the dark. Check out Angry’s conditions report for a class 2 route over the waterfall).
There was a camping area directly above the waterfall, and I was able to pick up a trail again. I was already considering today a success: the campers I’d talked to the night before hadn’t made it this far. The trail rounded a corner and brought me to a creek crossing above the waterfall. I had 2 options here: either balance my way across the log and potentially fall in the water (I was carrying a full pack) or take off my shoes and wade across. In the dark I took off my shoes and put on my water shoes (hurray for new gear and dry socks!). Yes, I’m sure some could have walked across the log, but I decided to use the log for stability and wade across, keeping my feet dry in the long run.
The well established trail picks up directly after the creek crossing
And brings you to a boulder field
Just after the boulder field there’s another creek crossing. Unfortunately, the creek was running quite high here and I became frustrated trying in the dark to find a passable route. I noticed some cairns to the right and followed them to what looked like a goat trail through the willows. This led me to a snow bridge that looked ready to collapse any day now, but it would get me across the roaring creek.
Check out the snow bridge. I was so excited to come across this in the dark. There weren’t any footprints from here on out, so I crossed my fingers I’d be able to find my way.
I didn’t find many pictures of this route, and to be honest route finding was difficult in the dark due to the snow, so I’m going to do my best to post some details. I followed the well defined (when there wasn’t snow) Cataract Gulch Trail. Just after the last creek crossing I headed south and rounded a large boulder
The (still snow free) trail brought me to a ravine
(In case anyone wants to see what the trail looks like at 4am…)
Here the snow picked up, covering the trail about 80% of the time. This was both good and bad: It was nice to see a trail every once in a while, but it was covered so much it was difficult to follow and became frustrating to someone like me who hikes on established trails when available. Just head south until you reach Cataract Lake. It feels like you’re hiking forever, but I promise you it’s there. My tracker showed it at 4.9 miles from the trailhead.
Here the birds started waking up. This is one of my favorite part of early morning hikes! I also saw a herd of Elk in the meadow.
Video:
Continue past the lake and you’ll come to a trail junction. Continue heading South
You’ll pass a small pond on your right and head towards Cuba Gulch, which is also the East Fork Middle Pole Trail (another well defined trail when there’s no snow).
Follow this trail west as it hugs the side of a mountain, unfortunately losing a little bit in elevation in the process. Here’s the general idea of where you’re headed
And some close ups. There was quite a bit of snow here, obscuring the trail.
Here I rounded the small basin and headed to a small saddle
This section is steeper than it looks, and snowshoes were helpful.
Turn right at the saddle and follow the trail towards Point 13,164. The dotted line is the suggested route to summit this ranked 13er, but I didn’t like the angle of the snow, so I continued on the trail until I found a better way to summit.
This is the route I took to gain the ridge of Point 13,164: I needed snowshoes and an ice axe here
At the top of the ridge I wound my way north to the summit.
From there it was an easy walk up a tundra slope to the summit with a rather large cairn and a great view of Half Peak
I summited at 7:10am
Video:
Also, the San Juan’s still have a lot of snow!!!
Ok, back down so I can get started with Half Peak. Here’s the view of the way I went back down and then gained the ridge to hike up Half Peak.
Side note: If you’re not interested in summiting 13,164 here are the coordinates along the trail you turn east at to gain the ridge of Half Peak
This is a long but gentle slope with no defined trail.
The crux of this route comes just before the summit at around 13,500’. There is a narrow ridge to navigate.
There’s a lot of exposure but I agree with Roach’s assessment this can be kept class 2 with careful footwork. I found the best strategy was to stick to the ridge in most places, dropping down 15 feet or so only when necessary
Here’s a picture looking back. The ridge reminded me of the catwalk along the ridge to Eolus.
From here it’s an easy walk to the summit
The summit is large and pretty flat
I summited at 8:30am
Video:
Here’s a look back on the route up the slope
I’d initially planned on hiking Quarter Peak (a bicentennial) today as well, but in the morning I’d gotten a look at Half Peak and the decent route off Half and towards Quarter had a lot of snow. I didn’t feel ready to commit to the descent in this warm weather. However, looking at Quarter from Half the ridge up to the summit of Quarter looked dry enough to summit without tackling snow
Oh well, time to head back down. The snow was softening up, and the snow below the saddle required snowshoes once again (more necessary this time). In this picture you can see a river flowing underneath several feet of snow
Here’s a look at the route back from Cataract Lake
I was almost back to the river crossing with the snow bridge when I looked over at the basin and saw 3 Bull Moose enjoying lunch together in the willows! Very cool!
Video :
I crossed the snow bridge, following my previous tracks. Here I started seeing people on the trail. I warned those with unleashed dogs about the moose up ahead and gave some people advice on how to find the snow bridge so they could hike to the lake. Actually, the park ranger/mom in me talked to everyone on the way down, but mostly just to see where they were headed. Today was such a beautiful day to hike!
I crossed the stream above the waterfall, descended the waterfall the same way I’d ascended, and made it back to my truck at 12:45pm, making this an 18.5 mile hike with 5640’ in elevation gain in 10 hours.
I had a totally different set of peaks in mind for the 4th of July weekend, but due to the (still) high levels of snow in the San Juan’s my plans changed a bit. I feel a bit out of shape because haven’t been out hiking in 2 weeks: I took my Troop Hammock Camping (it snowed on us in June!) and then to Alaska/Canada for a week, staying mostly at or around sea level. I got home the night of the 3rd late, decided to get in a 2 hour nap and was up and on the road at 9pm, headed to Lake City. To most this schedule may seem crazy, but I suffer from nightmares when I get too much sleep so I’d rather keep myself busy.
The drive up until Lake City was uneventful, except for a cop that pulled me over doing 61 in a 60mph zone coming over a hill in Nathrop. This is the second time this has happened in the same area, which means I didn’t learn the first time. Of course I was let off with a warning, and this time he didn’t try to give me his phone number. Also, he had no idea where Lake City was.
I was about 2 miles from Lake City when I saw it: My first thought was “Wow! A mountain lion!” Then quickly afterwards “Wait, that’s too big to be a mountain lion…” I was asking myself what animal could have a tail like that and be bigger than a mountain lion when it turned and looked at me: White muzzle, pink nose, dark alert whiskers, and tan face. That was definitely a mountain lion! Woot! And a healthy one to boot: I’m talking African Lioness size, brawny and muscular.
I slowed down my truck to get a better look. He(she?) was walking on the side of the road, seemingly not in any hurry. I’ve hiked thousands of miles in Colorado, and this was the first mountain lion I’ve seen here, and also by far the biggest mountain lion I’ve ever seen. Naturalist Nerd that I am, I’ve spent whole days at the Rocky Mountain Wild exhibit at the zoo, just sitting and watching Mountain Lions. Those mountain lions at the zoo had pouchy stomachs and loose skin, but not this guy! He was all muscle.
I was also a Park Ranger when I lived in California, and one time I encountered a Mountain Lion as I was leading a class of 3rd graders to the picnic area. It saw us coming, jumped out of the tree it was lounging in and quickly bounded away (30 lunchtime 3rd graders will do that to wildlife). While collared, that one must have been a juvenile because it had nothing in size on the one currently walking front of me.
After about 30 seconds I came to the conclusion I should try to get a picture. My cell phone was in my lap, so I turned off navigation and clumsily opened the camera app. I took a quick video and tons of pictures and studied him until he eventually turned around and bounded up the hillside. Imagine my disappointment when the video was too dark to see anything, and none of the pictures turned out of him sitting and looking straight at me. The best one I got was of him jumping, which wasn’t too great to begin with. In any event, it was a cool experience. Lake City has some big mountain lions!
The Grizzly Gulch / Silver Creek trailhead was full when I arrived at 2:30am and I had to get creative to find a parking spot in the parking lot big enough to fit my truck.
I headed northeast and was on the trail before 3am, a little jumpy after seeing the mountain lion but confident he was at least 20 miles away from my current location. I just tapped my trekking pole on every rock I saw and hoped I was scaring unwanted encounters away. Also, there’s a trail register at this trailhead; one of those big metal ones that makes a terrible creaking sound when it’s opened and closed, and a big bang when the lid drops. After signing my name and closing the lid I’m pretty sure I scared every creature within a couple mile radius.
Almost immediately there was evidence of avalanche activity along the trail, and while it was still dark and I couldn’t see the downed trees I could smell the fresh pine scent that accompanies an avalanche.
This is a very easy trail to follow, as it parallels Silver Creek all the way to the basin. As the trail began to follow Silver Creek I found myself walking on ice. At first I thought the creek was frozen, but quickly realized the creek wasn’t frozen but covered in a layer of ice several feet thick.
The ice was solid and reminded me of the glaciers I’d just seen in Alaska. It looked like an ice flow, but was most likely caused from avalanches throughout the basin. Mixed in were various tree branches and avy debris
And even areas of rockslides (the creek was flowing swiftly underneath all the debris).
Once in the basin I ascended the slope to the saddle between Redcloud and Point 13,561. This was fairly straightforward, and while it was covered in snow I didn’t need traction.
At the top of the saddle I turned left
The sun was starting to rise so I dug in my backpack for my camera, but unfortunately must have left it at home. Drat! I bring along my DSLR for pictures because taking photos on a phone is difficult with Raynaud’s: any type of touch screen is an issue as my finger touches don’t always register, but it’s much worse when my fingers are cold. I inwardly sighed and crossed my fingers there wouldn’t be too much wind, mentally resigning myself to not getting summit photos today (or tomorrow, as I was staying in Lake City hiking for a few days).
From the saddle I could see the rest of the route before me, and rejoiced it was basically snow free!
I looked left and was greeted with an unexpected view: I’d planned on summiting “Cooper Creek Peak” today as well, but hadn’t realized while going over my topo map there were gendarmes and a rocky ridge involved (and I didn’t have a helmet). Looks like I was only summiting one peak today.
I headed towards the patch of snow on point 13,561
This was easy to cross. Here’s looking back at Redcloud and the patch of snow
I followed a faint trail across the ridge
The path to the summit was tundra mixed with small rocks.
I summited at 6am, thrilled I was able to take photos with my phone (yet upset I was forced to take a selfie). Also, the sun was in my eyes
I crossed back over the patch of snow and thought again about Cooper Creek Peak. It was still really early and I wasn’t tired. I didn’t think I could summit, but I could make it to the halfway point (Point 13,665) and add some extra mileage and elevation gain to today’s hike, helping to keep me at my 10 mile/4000’ average. Here’s the path I took from the saddle
This was more challenging than Point 13,832, but in no way difficult. I just followed the ridge
I just kept to the left of the snow, hiking up surprisingly stable scree
The fun part came at the end. The actual ‘summit’ is the bump to the left
This ended up being quite a fun (if short) scramble to the top!
It reminded me a bit of the final scramble on El Diente (but with a lot less scrambling to get there).
Yes, there were a few chosen class 4 moves and some exposure as well.
From here I could see the summit of Cooper Creek Peak, and once again verified I wouldn’t be climbing the ridge connecting it with point 13,665 today (next time I’ll bring a helmet)
I had a really cool view of PTs 13,811 & 13,832 as well
Here’s a look back on the route
I trekked back to the saddle, having fun taking shadowselfies now that the sun was in the perfect position to do so
Back in the basin the 4th of July weekend was ramping up: I saw a couple dozen people on their way to Redcloud. I was glad I’d started early! The snow was softer on the way out, but I still didn’t need traction.
In the daylight the trail was much easier to follow: I just walked along the river of ice.
I made it back to my truck at 9:30am, making this an 11 mile hike with 4055’ of elevation gain in 6.5 hours
I hopped back into my truck and drove to the next trailhead, anxious to find a spot on a busy 4th of July weekend. No need however, since I was the only one there when I arrived (besides thousands of mosquitoes of course). I forced myself to eat (a bagel, tuna, and some dried fruit) and appreciated the close and clean bathroom. Eventually some dispersed campers wearing tank tops, flip flops, shorts, and backwards baseball camps arrived and I went to talk with them before heading to bed early (I’d only had 3 hours of sleep in the past 48 and needed to do some catching up: Luckily, even though I’m prone to nightmares I’ve never had one while camping so I was hoping to get in a solid 10-12 hours or so).
I talked with the other campers about the trail I was taking for tomorrows hike, as they’d attempted the approach today but were unsuccessful. They hadn’t been able to make it more than 2 miles due to avalanches and high creek crossings. I mentally filed this information away for tomorrow. Between slapping mosquitoes and trail talk I discovered they were camping to celebrate the holiday weekend with a dozen or so of their closest friends and they offered me a Coors Light later if I was interested? I thought back fondly to my days as a young 20-something, dispersed camping in the middle of nowhere with cheap beer, and then thought of the bottle of Knob Creek I had waiting for me in my truck. I thanked them, but they didn’t need a 38 year old parental figure spoiling their fun… and I was pretty sure I was all set in the alcohol department.
There are so many routes up Pacific Peak I wasn’t sure which one to take? I ended up making the decision the night before, and decided on the Southwest Slopes because I liked the way it looked best on a topo map (particularly the headwall area). I arrived at the Blue Lakes road and found the gate closed to the McCullough Gulch Trailhead. So I parked at the closed gate, right next to a small stream of water running off the road. I gathered my gear and was off at 2:30am.
About 20 yards into my hike I heard a loud noise that sounded like a large animal slipping and sliding on the scree below the road and to the right of me. Well… at least whatever it was was running away from me. Quickly. The 2WD dirt road to the trailhead was clear, dry, and easy to follow. I was confused as to why it was still closed, since besides some extremely minor avy debris and a short area with water running by the side of the road, the road was clear.
I hiked on this dirt road for 2.2 miles from the closed gate to the start of trailhead. This is where the snow started, and in the dark obscured the beginning of the trail.
For the next mile the snow was intermittent and soft. I’d need snowshoes for about 30 steps, then not need them for dozens of yards, and then I’d need them again for 30 steps or so.
I crossed a bridge
And headed left on a trail (the road ended here)
This is where I put snowshoes on and wore them for the rest of the hike. This is also where the trail finding became difficult. I kept losing and finding the trail and losing it again, so I gave up trying to stay directly on trail and just headed northwest, keeping the creek to my left and the ridge to my right.
At the end of the boulder field I came across a sign indicating the trail kept going straight. Here I turned right (at the cairn) and followed the gully up and to the northwest, avoiding the large boulders
At the top of the gully I rounded the hillside and was deposited below a lake. I walked around the right side of the lake, found the rock rib, and decided to climb the snow next to it to the notch(so I didn’t need to take off my snowshoes again).
Here’s a look back down from the notch
I was at the top of the waterfall area and just needed to turn the corner to the right to see more of the basin
Wow! Lots of snow here! I headed northeast, skirting what was probably a small lake to my left and couldn’t help but wonder how many feet of snow I was standing on top of? Way to go June 2019 in Colorado! You’ve got the snow thing down!
I kept rounding the basin, staying to the right
Once again: So. Much. Snow! I kept heading northwest towards the end of the basin. It’s best to stay high here so you don’t have to regain elevation.
I made it to the headwall. This is the crux of the route, and I decided it was time to take off my snowshoes and put on my crampons. I got out my ice axe and garden tool (haven’t purchased a second ice tool yet). The sun was just starting to rise
I was pleasantly surprised at the conditions of the headwall: continuous snow coverage that was consolidated just right for crampons. It was tiring, but I had no difficulties gaining the top of the headwall. I mentally high fived myself for choosing this route today. Ok, just a few hundred more feet of elevation gain and I was there! I made it to the saddle between Atlantic and Pacific, singing “Home for the Holidays” as I went. To be honest, I that song was in my head for most of this hike. Oh, and that’s a false summit…
There was a lot of snow here, and some of it felt steeper than the headwall
It seemed pointless to summit the false summit, so I skirted the bump to the left and continued towards Pacific.
From here the postholing began. The snow here looks solid, but it hugs a ridgeline and much of the snow underneath has melted away, leaving a hollow cap. At times the cap was thick enough to support my weight, and at others I postholed up to my waist into (or between) large rocks. I have a few bruises from the fun
Still, it was better than hiking with crampons on the rocks (I was too lazy to take them off, so I stuck to the snow)
Here’s a look back on the route from the saddle to the summit
The wind was intense here, so I decided to head back down. I made it to the saddle and Atlantic looked very inviting. I’ve already summited Atlantic, and I’m on a bit of a time limit today, so I didn’t feel it necessary to summit Atlantic as well (but it was tempting… you should do it!).
I had to stop and enjoy the view from the area just below the saddle (where the wind finally let up a bit). It was breathtaking!
From here you can see most of the route back. It’s important to follow the basin and stay close to Quandary Peak on your way out to exit in the correct area.
OK, time to start down the headwall.
The headwall was steep (so steep you can’t see the route down it here), but not as bad as a lot of gullies I’ve done lately. It’s supposed to be 40-45 degrees at points, but I was able to walk down the entire headwall without turning and facing the mountain.
At the base of the headwall I switched out my crampons for snowshoes, but kept ahold of my ice axe. I followed my tracks southwest
Rounded the ridge, and walked out of the basin
The snow was really starting to soften up at this point. For June 21, this is a ton of snow!
I made it down past the rib area without incident, and was just getting ready to skirt the small lake when it happened.
I was stepping off a rock and into snow and immediately my left leg sank and slid up to my upper thigh. I’ve postholed thousands of times, but never experienced anything like this: Try as I might, I couldn’t move my leg. It wasn’t hurt, but my snowshoe was stuck in the snow and keeping me from being able to move my foot and leg.
As I’d stepped on and slid into the deeper snow the snow had immediately softened up and settled like concrete around my leg, making it immobile. I thought to myself “So this is what they mean by not being able to get yourself out of an avalanche because the snow settles like concrete” and got to work. Luckily, this hadn’t been an avalanche and I still had my ice axe in my hand, so I started digging myself out. It took me a solid 15 minutes of work to free my leg. Also, my butt was now wet from sitting in the snow for so long. Lovely. At least no one was around to see.
The hike back to the trailhead was uneventful. In the light of day I was easily able to follow the trail and saw things I hadn’t before, like the log bridges and small pools and the actual trail itself…
There was also a lot of evidence of postholing from previous hikers using the trail. I hadn’t seen any of this in the dark (I’d paralleled the actual trail)
There was a snowbridge over the creek, and the creek was raging!
Back on the 2WD road I started seeing other hikers. Quite a few of them actually, and I figured they must have opened the gate. Sure enough, they had and there were cars parked at the summer trailhead as I passed.
I still had 2 miles to go however, but on a positive note, I saw a rather scruffy looking fox on my way back
I made it back to my truck at 10:45am, making this a 13 mile hike with 3700’ in elevation gain in just over 8 hours.
Ugh! It looked like some kids had thrown mud at my truck! There was dried mud/dirt on every corner, like someone had used my truck for target practice with mud pies. I was going to have to wash it after picking my daughter up from camp (she’s a counselor at a Girl Scout Camp and off this weekend so I was on my way there now to pick her up). It was a 3 hour drive, and I made it in plenty of time before release. While we were walking back to the truck my daughter said “How did your truck get so dirty?” I told her I it happened at the trailhead this morning. She went and took a closer look, put each of her hands on two of the marks and said “Mom, how big are bears?” That’s when I took a closer look at the blobs and realized no one had thrown mud at my truck: It’d been visited by a bear! I could see swishes of hair and even faint claw marks on the paint. Cool! Maybe that’s the animal I’d heard at the start of my hike? Now I didn’t want to wash my truck! Luckily, I took a few photos before it rained on my way home. I just wish I’d looked at the ground around my truck when I’d noticed the mud… I would probably have seen bear tracks!
I’ve been listening to a lot of Taylor this week, so it was only fitting I chose to hike Taylor Mountain A today. I made it to the snowmobile area (lower trailhead) around 3am, and decided to park here. There was one other vehicle when I arrived, and 7 when I left. This area can hold about 10 vehicles if everyone parks nicely. Be sure to park behind the red and white signs.
One of the deciding factors for parking here was the sign indicating the trailhead was only 1 mile away. This was only supposed to be a 7 mile hike, so I welcomed the added 2 miles distance. Note: The trailhead is actually 1.4 miles up this road, which isn’t a big deal unless you’re hiking and worried you ‘missed’ the turnoff in the dark.
The trail started off dry-easy-4WD, and stayed that way until I made it to the Boss Lake Trailhead. I could have easily driven my Tundra here.
About ½ a mile before the Boss Lake trailhead there was avy debris that had been cleared just enough to let a vehicle through
From here the road got a little muddy, but it wasn’t something that would stop a 4WD vehicle from making it to the trailhead.
I was very excited when I made it to the upper trailhead (I hadn’t past it in the dark!). There was a little bit of snow here, and no vehicles parked. There was room for about 4 vehicles total.
I followed the 230 for another quarter mile or so, realized I’d missed the turnoff to the 230C in the dark, and turned around. The turnoff was about 1/10 of a mile away from the trailhead.
The road became increasingly rockier but was still dry
On my way back I took a picture of the turnoff to 230C. It’s on the right side of the road. The intersection is easy to see in the light, but easy to miss in the dark, and as you can tell, the signage is well off the road (20 feet down 230C after the turn).
This is where the road really started to get muddy
There were tire tracks from an ambitious off road driver all the way to about 10,880’.
I started needing snowshoes around 11,000’, and didn’t see any other tracks in the snow
The road was easy to follow until it ended at the cabin area, and from here to treeline I was breaking trail. I turned right at the last cabin and navigated my way northwest through the trees, keeping the creek to my left and hugging the mountainside to the right.
I never came to a meadow, but this is most likely due to a recent (small) avalanche in the area. I just followed the avy debris to the bottom of a small basin
And followed the small gully to the top. The snow here was well consolidated, and even a bit icy.
At the top of the small gully I turned right
And looked for a trail that hugged the mountainside…
This was more difficult than it sounds. There wasn’t actually a defined trail. Well, maybe there was one 50 or 60 years ago, but I’d venture to guess this ‘trail’ hasn’t been use more than a handful of times recently. It’s more of a goat trail, completely overgrown with tundra. I took off my snowshoes here and didn’t need them until I made it back to this point.
Can you see the trail? Here’s a clue, go this way, under the rock and up the hillside
Eventually you’ll reach the ridge and turn left to ascend Taylor’s long ridge
I made it here just as the sun was beginning to rise. I got a nice view for a minute, but the sun quickly hid behind clouds for most of the rest of the morning
The rest of the route up Taylor Mountain A is a straightforward hike up the ridge.
I passed several neat mining sites on the way up
The terrain got increasingly rockier, but nothing too difficult.
I was actually hoping to make this hike a double summit and attempt Mt Aetna as well. However, I didn’t have any good beta on the ridge below Mt Aetna towards Taylor Mountain. I knew it usually holds snow, but I’d been hoping the ridge was clear enough to trek without snow on part of the ridge. Worried the snow would soften up too much for me to be able to climb Mt Aetna, I decided to check out the conditions there before summiting Taylor. I headed left, to towards the Aetna/Taylor Saddle
I made it to the ridge, and even before walking all the way to the end became disappointed: the wind had held at a steady 20-25mph all morning, but on this ridge I kept getting knocked down. The wind here was most likely well above 50mph, and while the route up to Mt Aetna looked to be in great climbing condition, I didn’t feel comfortable crossing the ridge in all this wind. I wasn’t entirely sure I could do it before the sun warmed up the snow either.
So I turned around and looked at the path back to Taylor Mountain.
This didn’t look too difficult, and indeed, it wasn’t. A bit rocky, and a few of the rocks were loose, but they weren’t going to tumble down below me or cause a rockslide. The most they could do is put me off balance. I navigated the rocks along the ridge
Stopping in the middle to take a picture of the route through the avalanche area to the basin and up the ridge
Almost immediately the sun came out from behind a cloud, and I was pleased with my decision not to attempt a summit of Mt Aetna today, guessing I’d only be making it to the snow now as the sun rose.
I turned to head back down Taylor’s South Slope
Stopping for a little bit in the mining area to take some more photos
Here’s a picture of the ridge between Aetna and Taylor
I made it to the ridge, turned right, found the old miner’s trail, and followed it back down into the basin, humming as I hiked
I followed my earlier snowshoe tracks through the avalanche area, down through the trees, and back to the trail, where I was able to see remnants of old cabins in the daylight I hadn’t seen in the dark.
I made it back to my truck at around 10am, making this a 10 mile hike with 4017’ in elevation gain in just under 6.5 hours.
All in all, today was a fabulous day! Now to drive home and take my daughter to the movies before she heads off to camp for a week.
e’s a lot of exposure but I agree with Roach’s assessment this can be kept class 2 with careful footwork. I found the best strategy was to stick to the ridge in most places, dropping down 15 feet or so only when necessary
Wild Wanderer 